


you are my morphine (i had my first good dream)

by adverbialstarlight



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Friendships, Fake Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Ice Skating, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Andrew Minyard, Pining, Professional Exy (All For The Game), Rivalry, Small references to some canon past, Social Media, its both, red white & royal blue esque, writer flexes on colorado knowledge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adverbialstarlight/pseuds/adverbialstarlight
Summary: Five times Andrew and Neil were only pretending to be friends for a pro exy PR scheme and one time they actually were.(A 5+1 with pining, the Minyard-Josten RivalryTM, and several social media edits I worked way too hard on.)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 28
Kudos: 263
Collections: AFTG Exchange Valentine's Day 2020





	you are my morphine (i had my first good dream)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [corduroywords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corduroywords/gifts).



> hi, this is a gift for [beefy-keefy](https://beefy-keefy.tumblr.com/) in the aftg valentines exchange!! sorry it took so long, it ended up waaay longer than expected and you mentioned social media au along with a 5+1/rivals au/making up for missed childhood experiences which i crunched in so i just had to flex some of my graphic design and art skills. anyway, hope you enjoy!!
> 
> betaed by the lovely [makebelieveanything](https://makebelieveanything.tumblr.com/) who really saved my ass on this one. title from [morphine by lights](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydyglm1biAA)

#### 0 – Initiative

“Mr. Minyard, I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now that your starting striker for the Boulders, Neil Josten, has renewed his playing contract for another year. Do you have any thoughts on that? You two have been rivals in the exy world for years now, the top two players after Kevin Day’s retirement a few months ago, and teammates for a whole season now and we’d love to hear your thoughts.”

Andrew stared flatly at the journalist, her smile too wide and eyes gleaming in a way that was almost vulturous. He wasn’t sure why the coach had put him out for interviews again today, they all knew that it never ended well for anyone involved. Without any inflection in his tone, Andrew said, “No.”

The woman raised her carefully manicured eyebrows. “What do you mean by that, Andrew? Are you unsupportive of Josten continuing to play for the Boulders? Is there really a hostile relationship between the two of you still, even now?”

“No.”

“Mr. Minyard—”

“No.”

The crowding journalists erupted into questions all at once again, each more irritating than the next. Andrew didn’t pay them any mind though, simply standing up from the table and walking off stage to the sound of frantic reporters. The player who’d been sitting next to him looked startled and began to attempt calming down the press, trying to change the topic, but it was in vain. None of them were paying attention to her, instead trying to get a shot of the infamously surly Andrew Minyard leaving the last press conference of this season only five minutes in.

The Boulders’ coach should’ve known better than this by now, to put Andrew on press duty. He didn’t care enough about feeding pretty fluff to the tabloids or giving gossip about what was happening with his supposed rivalry with Neil Josten— something which neither cared much for— and these often ended with him leaving in a similar manner. But as one of the best players in professional exy and one of the supposed brightest players on the team, they kept shoving him out there.

When Andrew had found Neil already in the lounge area after leaving the press conference early, he had glared a bit but gave up when Neil didn’t leave. Instead, Neil pulled up the rest of the conference and laughed at and commented on everything that was happening to a stoic Andrew.

Andrew didn’t understand Neil Josten. As two hot-shot professional players who also had personal connections to Kevin Day, the Paul McCartney of exy, they’d been pit against each other and shoved side by side numerous times throughout their respective careers, but had never been _friendly_. Even after a season of playing together for the Boulders, Neil was usually more often than not Kevin-level vexed with Andrew and, as always, Andrew, for a lack of a better word, simply hated Neil.

Neil Josten was a liar, a facade. He blended away easily despite his celebrity status and yet interesting in ways Andrew couldn’t understand yet. He was everything Andrew detested. Everything he tried to stay away from. Everything he found beautiful in a man. It was disgusting.

He’d never admit it aloud, but secretly Andrew was almost amused. It was rare for them to get along like this, be able to sit near each other comfortably without a biting insult from Neil or the unsheathing of a knife from Andrew.

“Coach Williams is going to be pissed off at you,” Neil told Andrew as the conference ended and he tossed his phone on the table.

“Damn fucking straight she is. What the hell were you thinking, Minyard?”

Coach Williams and the two other team members who’d been dragged into the conference stood in the doorway now. The coach’s expression was pinched and stormy, but Andrew could tell it was only a cover for the complete and utter exhaustion she was feeling. It was a common reaction to Andrew.

Andrew didn’t reply, he continued to focus an indifferent stare at the plastic succulent sitting on the table next to Neil’s phone. He didn’t care much for lectures.

“You know, everyone’s getting pretty tired of this,” Williams said, walking over to them. “If you two keep up this—this whatever it is, we’re going to look like a lot of hypocrites at the Two Hearts Charity Gala. You can’t promote happy and fucking healthy found family when your own team members are known for hating each other’s guts. I’m calling in Jesse and we’re going to fix this PR disaster, whether you like it or not.”

“But—”

“Seriously, Josten. You don’t have to mean it, but we’re going to at least pretend.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Fake playdates.”

Coach Williams frowned at that but, heaving a sigh, nodded. “Basically.”

“No,” Andrew said. “This is useless.”

“Look, I’m not asking you to hold hands and sing. Just go to a few things, smile at a planted photo op, and go home. I’ll even have Jesse write out the first icebreaker tweet for you. Barely any work from you is required, Minyard.”

“What if I don’t want to do it either?” Neil piped up, his arms crossed. He looked more like the Neil Andrew was familiar with now, a furrow between his brows and shoulders tensed to start a fight.

Without any hesitation, Coach Williams said, “Doesn’t matter. You promised to be a good player for PR in your contract.”

Neil opened his mouth, ready to protest, but then he shut it. He knew it was a lost cause with her. Unfortunately, so did Andrew. He was bored of all this and didn’t feel like going in a few more circles.

“Whatever,” he said. With that, he got up and left the room. This was going to be interesting.

#### 1 – Magazine Shoot

“This place smells like a fast food dumpster.”

Andrew didn’t look at Neil as he replied, “Of course you know what that would smell like.”

He could practically hear Neil’s eyes roll. “Fuck off. I’m just saying this place is just another alleyway. The only thing missing is a bunch of old homeless guys squatting in it. Are there any of those around?”

“This is a ten thousand dollar per session photography studio!” Jesse exclaimed incredulously as Neil began to glance around.

“And I'm the NBA's tallest fucking basketball player,” Andrew said flatly.

Neil snorted.

Jesse only heaved a long sigh. "Please, just wait until the photographer gets here. And when they do, be nice to them. We paid a lot of money to do this shoot and to have you guys featured on the very front cover one of the biggest exy news magazines—"

"Tabloids," Neil muttered under his breath.

"—in the world! They cover everything from high school nationals to the Olympics, so this is a big deal," he continued without pause. "So that means you two need to grin and bear it for three hours and then there's two weeks until your next thing. Okay?"

"Whatever," Andrew said. Jesse took that as confirmation, and he gave Andrew a tight smile.

"Alrighty then."

A few moments later, one of the worn down wooden gates lining the alley creaked open, admitting a tall, leather jacket clad stranger wearing a camera around their neck. They walked up to the group and held out a dark, manicured hand. "I'm Isa, nice to meet you two. I'll try to make this shoot as quick as possible but that means you've actually gotta listen to my directions. Got any problems with that?"

Neither men shook their hand, but Isa didn't seem the least bit perturbed about it. They merely picked up their camera when both nodded in agreement and led them over to a small stucco painted wall. There was nothing special about it to Andrew's eye, but he figured Isa viewed it as some brilliant revolutionary kind of bullshit.

They motioned for Andrew and Neil to stand in front of the wall. “Alright, Andrew, cross your arms and look that way. A bit more— yes, thank you. Neil, hold your racquet a bit higher up, it’s not a cane.”

Neil made an indignant sound at that, miffed that anyone would accuse him of loving his exy stick less than he did. Andrew rolled his eyes. “Junkie,” he muttered. Neil tilted the exy racquet so the net lightly brushed against Andrew’s forehead.

“Whoops,” Neil said sarcastically.

From behind Isa, who was snapping photos furiously, Jesse sighed again. “You know, this isn’t really helping your case of not hating each other, the entire reason we’re here today.”

Andrew quirked a brow. “I _do_ hate him.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “It’s mutual.”

Jesse sighed— Andrew was starting to think it was the only way he breathed, through large dramatic sighs of exasperation and weariness— but surprisingly Isa laughed. Andrew switched his gaze to them now, but instead of looking away, Isa actually smiled widely. It was unnerving to see but Andrew didn’t move or look away.

“You two kind of remind me of my partner and I,” Isa said casually, refocusing the lens and snapping another shot. “Turn towards each other a bit, but keep looking at the camera. Yes, that’s it.” The camera went off three times. “She loves to talk about what a nuisance I am, but we both know she loves me anyway. It’s cute, really. You guys look cute together, I can see why your relationship has been so hooking.”

Not even Neil had a comment for that. He just followed behind Isa as they led them to another seemingly random location in the alleyway, followed by Jesse and then Andrew. As they went through various other poses and locations in the alley, Andrew tried to get the conversation to stop repeating in his mind.

Isa had said there was a _relationship_ between them, had called them cute, and compared them to the dynamic with their own significant other. It was absolutely ridiculous. Andrew had long ago stopped bothering to deny that, yes, Neil was very nice to look at and he was physically attracted to him. But their relationship, beyond irritated teammates? There was nothing there. Andrew couldn’t imagine there ever being something in its place.

(Though secretly, he thought he might be able to. Just a bit.)

#### 2 – Wooferton’s birthday

Andrew glared as Nicky walked up to him and shoved a paper party hat into his hands, looking expectant as Andrew stared. “No,” he said.

Nicky only rolled his eyes. “Put on the hat, for Wooferton?”

“I don’t give a fuck about Wooferton.”

From beside Andrew, Neil snorted. “That’s a lie. You were giving him pieces of your cake earlier when Nicky wasn’t looking.”

Nicky’s eyes widened. “Andrew! You know that frosting is bad for his diet.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, shoving the party hat surreptitiously into his jacket pocket. “He’s a dog. I don’t care how “famous” he is, he’s still just a dog. Pugs are fat, that’s just a fact.”

“Whatever,” Nicky said, shaking his head in defeat. He knew it was a lost cause, they’d had this argument multiple times before. Wooferton had a few social media followers so Nicky acted like a crazed mother hen and Andrew told him it was stupid. Rinse and repeat. “But at least _Neil_ will wear a hat for Wooferton, right Neil?”

Neil stared at Nicky blankly. When offered a hat, he didn’t even look at it.

“Right. Okay,” Nicky said, nodding. “Well uh, have fun guys.”

Neither man said anything as Nicky shuffled away awkwardly, going up to his next guest to offer them a party hat. Andrew huffed in quiet amusement.

Nicky had been the one to insist that this be the second official outing for Andrew and Neil. He said that going to a family event— because apparently, Andrew was considered the dog’s fucking uncle or something— would look fantastic, and besides, there would be ice cream. Andrew was going to have to come anyway, so he might as well kill two birds with one stone, Nicky reasoned.

He was probably regretting it now.

Andrew straightened from the wall he was leaning on and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. He headed towards the empty porch swing under one of the larger trees, Neil silently followed. They sat down with a foot of space between them and Andrew dumped a cigarette out of the box.

“Those are absolute shit for you considering you’re a professional athlete,” Neil commented. Still, he held out a hand for a cigarette, which Andrew handed over after a moment.

Andrew lit their cigarettes and stared blankly at the rest of the party as he took a drag. In the corner of his eye, Andrew watched Neil merely hold his, staring at the smoke and burning paper with a distant look in his eyes.

Idiosyncrasies, he thought absently. For the entire time they’d known each other, despite rarely interacting, Neil was always made of idiosyncrasies. _Lies_.

Little was known about what Neil had been before he was recruited to the Boulders, only that he was a friend of Kevin Day and had immense potential. He dodged questions easily; his eyes always jumped around a room as if ready to run at the slightest sound. His rather attractive face and arms were marred with faded but dark scars, scars that Andrew suspected ran even further over his skin than what he allowed people to see.

Andrew couldn’t help his intrigue. It was disgustingly incessant.

After a few quiet moments, Andrew announced. “Truth for truth.”

Neil raised an eyebrow, as if to say _are you serious?_ After a moment of deliberation however, he nodded. “Fine. Ask me something, I guess.”

“You don’t smoke,” Andrew said. He glanced at the wasted cigarette in Neil’s hand then back out to the party.

It wasn’t a question, but Neil was able to find the one asked. “My mother did. It’s a reminder, sort of.” Andrew didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t react. Instead of getting offended by this, Neil nodded to himself once, staring down at the cigarette. He brought it to his lips for a few moments, most likely just to keep it going, then asked gravely, “Do you actually not like exy?”

Andrew couldn’t help but scoff. “Junkie,” he said. “Of course that’s what you’d waste your truth on.”

“I mean it,” Neil said, affronted. “Like, how could you not like exy? Especially as a professional player who’s probably going to the fucking Olympics soon?”

Andrew took one last drag from his cigarette and stubbed it out on the wooden bench. “It’s a stupid sport. Stupid things are boring.”

“Then why do you play?” Neil inquired. “Is it because of Kevin?”

“Only one question,” Andrew said. “Try again later unless you want to say something else right now, which I highly doubt.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Fine. Maybe at the next event.”

Andrew didn’t answer. They sat in silence after that. It was surprisingly comfortable, something like understanding and agreement hanging in the air that was not unpleasant. Andrew was strangely reminded of Renee, who would sit happily beside Andrew for hours when they hung out without a single complaint. She didn’t care about Andrew’s rough edges, his brashness or his apathy. He thought maybe Neil didn’t either. What a peculiar thought.

Finally, after what felt like millennia, guests began to leave. Jesse had told them over Skype that leaving early would look bad and there was an appropriate time to do so.

“Haven’t either of you any sort of etiquette?” he’d exclaimed after Neil suggested ditching right after cake was served. Andrew appreciated his consideration for dessert, after all that was Andrew’s sole incentive, but the publicist was appalled.

They all knew the answer to that question. From Neil’s inability to shut his fucking mouth around press reporters— something that had landed him at the center of a mafia squabble for the second time in his life back in his collegiate exy days because he’d pissed off Riko Moriyama— to Andrew’s well publicized violent past and poor social skills, there wasn’t a single ounce of proper politeness between the two.

Perhaps that was why they’d gotten along so well today.

Andrew stood first, Neil following right after. They headed towards the back gate without even a glance at Nicky, who was taking some pictures of Wooferton with an expensive camera for Instagram. Neil pulled out his phone, beginning to navigate through the app folders to the Uber app and Andrew rolled his eyes. He pushed the phone down and pulled out his car keys without thinking and said, “Get in the car, I’ll drive you.”

“Oh,” Neil said, surprise evident. “You don’t have to do that, but thanks for the offer.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I’m in the black Maserati,” he replied simply.

Neil snorted. “So that’s why you play then. Because you need to afford your fancy sports car. Honestly, you look more like the Subaru Outback type. It’s very Colorado.”

Andrew shot him a look. “Says the man wearing jorts.”

“Hey, they’re comfortable!” Neil protested. “Why does everyone hate my pants so much?”

“Whatever.”

#### 3 — Fuzzy Felines Charity Conference

“You’re going to give everyone hugely mixed messages here,” Nicky said as he flipped through a magazine. “First you go to a dog birthday party and now you two are doing your friendship tour at a _cat_ event? Which are you, a dog or cat fan? You can’t be both.”

“Whatever.”

Nicky ignored Andrew’s exasperated tone breezily, waving a hand in dismissal. One of the downsides to having had built a better relationship with his cousin in the past five years was the fact he no longer feared his life whenever Andrew showed anything but dull apathy. Bee said it was a positive step, but it was a huge pain in the ass at times like these. “Anyway, I hope you find a cute cat! I love Wooferton but damn are those cats cute, you need more friends than just Renee and Neil, maybe this will help.”

“Neil is not my friend. He’s just an idiot,” Andrew said flatly. They weren’t friends. Really, they weren’t. This was all just a PR parade.

Nicky snorted. “Sure. Then why did you two keep hanging out together even after the pap plants got their pictures and left, _huh_?”

Andrew didn’t have time for this. He was going to be late for the event. “Whatever. See you later.”

“Say hi to Neil for me!” Nicky called after him.

Andrew didn’t bother to reply.

When he walked into the hotel hosting the conference, a woman in a bright purple dress hurried up to him immediately, a too-wide smile on her lips. “Hi, hello! You must be Mr. Minyard, my name’s Rebecca. Nothing has really started yet but you can get your name badge and come meet some of our cats! We brought a few here today that are up for adoption if you’d like to come say hi.”

Andrew didn’t shake her hand, but her smile barely even faltered. She tottered off further into the hotel and, not really having any other choice, Andrew reluctantly followed. There weren’t very many people in the ballroom yet, almost all of them wearing the bright green shirts of the Fuzzy Felines shelter. In the corner were several cats milling around behind some chicken wire, two volunteers sitting with them.

Rebecca led Andrew to a table in the opposite front corner. “You can find your name badge in this pile,” she told him. “Your teammate hasn’t arrived yet, but you two should definitely check out our photoshoot area. The lovely young man who set this up said that you two are trying to do some publicity promotion here.” She winked, actually fucking winked, and headed off to talk to one of the volunteers.

Andrew found his lanyard, rolling his eyes at the bright green text, and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. Then, noticing the volunteer had left and no one else was over there, Andrew walked over to the cats in the corner. They varied in color and breed and size, but all wore a bright green bandana with the words “Adopt me!” printed across it. Something about it made Andrew’s skin crawl. He shoved it down and stepped into the makeshift pen.

Nicky always found it appalling how much Andrew liked animals, saying it was ironic, in a way. Andrew always replied for him to shut up. Animals were marginally better than people. They were more interesting, quieter, overall just better.

He sat down in the corner carefully. A few of the cats came over to him immediately, their noses twitching as they investigated his clothing before losing interest, but a few stayed in their respective areas and only gave him a wary look. Andrew stared right back at them, allowing the warmer cats to mill in his personal bubble but kept them from climbing too much onto him.

Around ten minutes later, Neil found him still there looking bored as he let one of the kittens chase around the string of his lanyard.

“You know we’re kind of expected to wear those, right?” Neil asked from next to him. He’d approached slowly and from the left and was now leaning over the chicken wire with crossed arms. He scratched one of the cats behind the ear with a small smile.

It was a different type than Andrew had seen on him before. Softer than the one sharp grin he saved for nosy reporters, wider than the plastic smile given to magazines and children he had no idea how to handle, more genuine than the one he gave their teammates whenever they asked him about how he was feeling after practice. _Idiosyncrasies_.

Shoving aside his thoughts, Andrew shrugged. He put the cat he’d been holding onto the floor gently and made to get up. “Whatever,” he said. “They know I’m here anyway.”

Instead of walking over to other guests milling around, Neil glanced at Andrew and then the pen. Andrew scooted over and Neil stepped into the pen carefully, making sure to avoid the tail of a lazy striped cat as he sat a few inches away from Andrew. There was enough space that the chances of their knees bumping were low. For some reason, Andrew was surprised that Neil remembered to be conscientious of his personal space. He looked back towards the cats.

From next to him, Andrew heard Neil start to make cooing noises at some of the cats. All five looked over at him with varying curiosity except one, who didn’t even react. Neil snorted, pointing at it. “Hey look, it’s like you,” he told Andrew.

Andrew raised an eyebrow at Neil. Fair enough, he thought. Instead of admitting that though, he nodded at a small red cat at one of the corners of the pen, isolated from the others and looking skittish as it sniffed the perimeter. “Then that one must be you.”

Neil scoffed, but he grinned, not denying it.

Their eyes met for a moment and Andrew’s hand stilled on the back of the cat next to him. He felt like Renee had just kicked him in the solar plexus at sparring practice.

Andrew averted his eyes quickly, internally cursing himself despite keeping his impassive mask. This was not good.

#### 4 — The Official Pro Exy Winter Gala

Andrew would argue that he hated every part of being an exy player if you asked him. It was the truth, for the most part. Stick ball was boring, and he regretted letting Kevin drag him into the dumb sport every single day. He always regretted it more, though, at the Winter Gala.

He wasn’t sure why there was always a fucking gala, whether you were a high school, college, or professional player. The galas were brain numbing and miserable, full of posturing athletes who were in the middle of a long fight to be the season champions. It was exhausting just to think about on a normal occasion.

It was even worse, however, when Jesse decided to bring the whole friendship parade with Neil into it. The last thing Andrew needed was to have to play nice and sit next to Neil all night at this thing.

(Though recently, secretly, he was starting to question that. It was complicated.)

“Alright so, as you might have guessed, you boys will be sitting together at the gala,” Jesse told them. “Think you boys will be able to handle it?”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

Neil scoffed. “Shocker.”

And yet, neither of them complained beyond that. The week of the gala came up so everyone on the Boulders got onto a plane to Cincinnati at ass-o-clock on Friday morning, took a nap in their respective hotel rooms for a few hours, then piled onto a bus headed to the stadium. Neil sat down next to Andrew without a word, ignoring the questioning look he was shot. There wasn’t even going to be any media coverage as they went to the gala, but Andrew supposed it was practice for long term proximity again.

Neil didn’t talk on the way to the gala, instead opting to close his eyes again or fiddle with the collar of his dress shirt. Andrew alternated between staring at the window or watching Neil from the corner of his eye. After catching himself for the fifth time, Andrew forced his eyes forward to the ugly seat in front of him. It was unoccupied, as the rest of the team had made a point to sit as far away as possible from Andrew. He didn’t move his eyes for the rest of the trip.

When they were pulling into the stadium parking lot, Neil woke up with a startle. His eyes darted around the bus, shoulders tensed and ready to fight, but when he realized where he was, they eased a bit. Their eyes met, and Neil raised an eyebrow.

“Truth for truth,” he said. Andrew shrugged. Neil thought a moment then asked, “Why do you give that look to everyone?”

“This is just my face,” Andrew said. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

Neil shook his head, smiling a bit. “No, no. I mean why do you always glare at everyone, like you’re plotting their murder? It’s not very subtle.”

Coach Williams called from the front of the bus and the team, with varying levels of enthusiasm, began to pick up their things and head to the front of the bus. After waiting for everyone else to be out of their seats, Andrew and Neil stood as well.

Neil’s eyes were flitting around again, taking in every detail of every person and object he could see outside the bus before readjusting his grip on his bag and stepping off. Andrew snorted and followed.

“Because not all of us try to stay invisible and hide everything all the time because we’re paranoid fucks, Neil.”

“Yeah, because you’re super expressive otherwise,” Neil replied. “And I’m not paranoid.” Andrew raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t what he’d seen in the past three minutes. “Alright, I guess I’m a bit paranoid, but that can be healthy. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

They followed the group up the unnecessarily large stairs and Andrew thought for a minute. Finally he said, “If you’re so obsessed with going under the radar and such, why do you run your stupid mouth so much?”

Neil rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fuck off.”

“We were all there when you publicly antagonized Riko Moriyama in college, idiot.”

Shrugging, Neil muttered quietly, “I had my reasons to. No one really said it at the time, but Riko was a bad fucking guy.”

“No kidding,” Andrew scoffed.

He’d known Kevin for long enough to know the story with Riko, about the Moriyamas and their mafia dealings. He’d seen Kevin’s look of pure terror every time one of them came up and his hand reach up to the tattoo on his face, formerly a number two to match Riko’s number one.

Right before Kevin announced his retirement, he’d exposed Riko and the Moriyamas for their terrifying crimes, denouncing them and letting everyone know the pain they’d inflicted on him and many others. The only people who were officially included in this, though, were other former Ravens. Jean Moreau, Thea Muldani, and a few others Andrew hadn’t bothered to pay attention to. Never was a Neil Josten mentioned, but there wasn’t any reason why Neil would so vehemently hate Riko’s guts if he wasn’t included in this. Neil didn’t strike Andrew as the sympathetic hero, someone like Renee who fought for other people’s rights even if it had nothing to do with her own situation. So he had to be tied to Riko in some way for that to happen.

As if reading Andrew’s mind, Neil said, “My father, he worked for the Moriyamas. He was basically their guard dog who killed at their will. I was supposed to be sold to them— to Riko, to be part of his perfect court or whatever— but then my mother and I left. They hunted us for years afterwards, eventually my dad killed her. He was gonna kill me too before my uncle stepped in and helped. Put a bullet through the asshole’s head, helped me change my name, and become a pro player with no mob ties.”

He paused as they walked into the stadium, waiting to be out of earshot of the staff again. “My father’s dead now, but I guess old habits die hard, sometimes I think his men are still waiting somewhere to kill me. But I’m working on it. Trying to be more like me than an inconspicuous traveler. And I guess the real _me_ talks more when he’s got an opinion.

They were both silent for a long moment. Andrew’s face gave away nothing despite Neil’s scrutinizing gaze. He felt no pity for Neil, only a small bit of satisfaction that Neil had trusted him with this story. It wasn’t everything that made up Neil Josten, but it was a big piece of the puzzle and Andrew was grateful.

But it was also more than he’d asked for, a free extra truth.

“My mother was a bitch,” he began without prelude, tone clinically detached. Neil raised his eyebrows in amusement. “She was druggy and an alcoholic but then she decided to get pregnant with twins. She didn’t want twins, not even one kid, so she gave them up for adoption. But then for whatever reason she felt _bad_ , and took one of them back. That one lived under her roof and was treated like garbage, the other was thrown around foster care and also treated like garbage.

“Aaron and I didn’t even know the other existed until we were thirteen. We met a few years later, then I moved in, found out the bitch was beating him, figured out a way to end it, and used her life insurance to let Aaron go to college and become a fancy doctor.”

Andrew finished flatly, shrugging even as Neil snorted next to him. He didn’t seem phased in the slightest about Andrew’s admission of matricide, though perhaps Andrew should’ve expected it. After all, being tied to the Moriyamas meant he didn’t have the fluffiest existence either. Andrew found that there was some comfort in that, knowing Neil had just as many sharp, fucked up edges as he did, understood it and accepted it.

Neil only nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

“Whatever,” Andrew replied.

They finally reached the door leading out onto the field. Before opening it, Coach Williams called out a warning for everyone to _actually try to behave politely around the other teams for once_ , mainly aimed towards Neil, who put up his hands in mock surrender. Andrew huffed in amusement.

There were name cards set out at each seat on the table assigned to the Boulders. Some of their teammates cheered or whined in surprise at their placements, but having been told about it beforehand, Neil and Andrew simply made their way to their places and sat.

“Let’s get this over with, then,” Neil muttered. He picked up the fork next to his plate and began poking the plastic tablecloth with the tines of the fork, disregarding the disproving look another team’s coach gave him for it. “What even is the point of these things?”

“Networking or something,” Andrew said, shrugging. “Or in this case, publicity so we don’t look like complete hypocrites.”

Neil laughed. He turned to look at Andrew then, a serious look crossing his face. “Hey, do you actually hate me?” he asked.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Every single inch of you,” he deadpanned.

Instead of taking offense, Neil laughed again. “Somehow, I don’t really believe that’s true.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No,” Neil said breezily, “just in denial. Face it, you actually like me.”

Andrew didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

Conversation between the two of them flowed easily the rest of the night, making fun of other athletes and coaches and the stadium owner with the inane goatee. It was surprisingly tolerable, the most tolerable gala Andrew had ever sat through, and it was because of Neil fucking Josten.

As he stared out the plane window, hands tightly gripping the arms of his seat as they sped into the air, Andrew tried not to play back the night over and over again in his mind. The way Neil’s eyes would crinkle when he laughed, the sharp and dangerous smile he wore when anyone else attempted to make conversation, how by the end of the gala, their shoulders were nearly brushing. It was masochistic, really, especially when Andrew knew what would come of it— absolutely nothing— but still, he couldn’t find a way to make himself stop.

#### 5 — Ice Skating at the 16th Street Mall

The days following the winter gala brought a ridiculous amount of snow. Andrew was getting sick of having to shovel his way out every morning, stepping in slush when he was outside, and watching reckless idiots slide around on the icy roads.

The weather seemed to heighten the winter holiday mood around town, which was already going insane since there was just a week until Christmas, because one day Jesse sent a group text to Andrew and Neil scheduling an ice skating play date.

Andrew hadn’t seen Neil since they left the airport, as they got a break from practice for the holidays, and an obnoxiously eager part of him jumped into alertness at the chance to see him again. He told it to shut up but agreed anyway.

Just like that, they were scheduled to have their final public outing at the seasonal ice rink that was installed at the 16th Street Mall downtown. The contract only specified five total outings, but Andrew found it strange that, after this, there would be no more. They were obnoxious at first, but he already missed these opportunities to hang out with Neil, mostly alone. It was ridiculous.

The next day, he took the light rail down to the mall and sat down on a bench to wait for Neil. There were people bustling all over the place; small children screaming as they skated around with walkers, preteen girls twirling around, imagining they were Olympic figure skaters, parents hovering around in poofy coats with big cameras focused on their kids. Andrew watched them all from his place by the skate rentals, observing their movements and listening to their conversations. No one even paid him any mind, there wasn’t even a glance in his direction except from the girl working the skate rental counter.

Andrew felt invisible. Completely unseen and blended into the background, with no vulturous reporters or overeager but quickly disappointed fans, it was a surreal experience. He supposed this was what Neil always felt when he was out on his own, safe in the anonymity.

A few minutes later, someone sat down on the bench next to him. Andrew didn’t even flinch, continuing to watch two teens bicker with each other as one taught the other to skate.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Neil joked. Andrew looked up this time, letting himself take in Neil’s appearance for a brief moment. There was a thick yarn scarf wound around Neil’s neck, reaching up to his jaw, and the bright knitted hat on his head sported the logo of the Boulders. When he caught Andrew looking at the hat, Neil shrugged, pulling it over his ears. “This _is_ kind of a sponsorship thing. Might as well make it clear.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, amused. “Skates,” he said.

They walked up to the rental counter together and picked up skates. As he tied the laces of his, Neil looked up at the busy rink thoughtfully. “You know, I never actually got to ice skate or do holiday things in the winter when I was a kid. My mom thought it was a waste of time.”

Andrew glanced at him. “I didn’t until I moved in with my brother and Nicky a few years ago. None of the homes I was in cared about it either.”

A beat of silence passed between them, processing and understanding the small truths the two men offered each other. Then, quickly as it came, the moment passed. Andrew stood up and stiltedly began to make his way to the ice. Neil wobbled on his legs as he followed.

It only took a moment for Andrew to find his balance once stepping in the rink. He skated out a bit and crossed his arms to watch Neil. The moment he was on ice, Neil gripped the side wall tightly, legs flailing like a newborn deer. He looked up to glare at Andrew. “Don’t look so smug, I already told you I haven’t done this before.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Smug,” he echoed, face blank.

“I mean what I said. You act all stoic, but I know you’re laughing at me.”

“Whatever you say, Neil,” Andrew said. He skated in a small circle around Neil to watch the way the striker’s brows furrowed in annoyance, pushing back a smile. This was truly a bad idea.

Neil, the spiteful and pride filled man he was, let go of the railing, undoubtedly to try to show Andrew he could stand up on his skates too. He could not. Once again, he flailed for a moment and latched onto the wall quickly. After regaining his balance standing there, Neil looked up at Andrew with the determined glint usually reserved for exy in his eyes.

“Show me how to skate,” he told Andrew. The words were phrased as a command, but there was a question, a _yes or no_.

“Whatever,” Andrew said. He skated a few inches closer, dangerously so, and reached for Neil’s hands. When Neil’s cheeks turned bright pink, Andrew tried his best to blame it only on the cold and the clear humiliation that this— standing completely and utterly confused while a group of small children skated past with ease and confidence— was bringing Neil. “First of all, you need to let go of the railing.”

Neil gave Andrew an incredulous look. Andrew stared right back. As it went on, he internally sighed. This was not going to be easy.

As they found out over the next hour, it was not. The number of times Neil fell flat on his ass— and the number of times he’d brought Andrew down with him because the idiot had made Andrew promise to attempt helping him if he was about to fall— was too numerous for Andrew to bother counting even with an eidetic memory. The swears that left his mouth could rival the frequency of Gordon Ramsey on a reality cooking competition. And yet, with each mistake and slip, Neil remained set on learning to skate.

Andrew didn’t know whether to admire or abhor his stubbornness. Still, he nodded and continued to talk every time Neil demanded to try again. Eventually, Neil was able to skate around the entire enclosed rink by himself, albeit slowly but without the help of the wall or Andrew’s arm.

Once he’d done this a few times, practically vibrating from excitement after each, Andrew deemed it time to call it. His toes were frozen and his ears were about to fall off, something not helped by the quickly setting sun.

And besides, he reminded himself bitterly, they’d already been here far longer than necessary for this final playdate anyway.

“Hot chocolate time,” Andrew told Neil. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Andrew skated to the exit and stepped onto the thick black mat. Neil was far better coordinated this time as he stepped out of the rink too.

They pried off their skates, returned them to the rental counter, and began walking to the crosswalk. Neither spoke as they made their way to the Woody Creek Bakery across the street, but Andrew felt oddly content. He was calm, walking next to Neil, less cold. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but one he’d been getting used to lately.

At the bakery, Andrew got his hot chocolate and a brownie and Neil got a cup of hot tea. They had a short, silent glaring match over paying, and Andrew tried to ignore how eerily date-date like today had turned out.

“Thank you,” Neil said upon sitting down at a corner table. “For helping me learn to skate, for the tea. All of it, really. I had a lot of fun with you today.” He paused, looking down at his tea, bracing himself for whatever he was going to say next. Andrew waited patiently and tried not to hope or focus on the way that, even in the winter, Neil’s freckles still looked so prominent on his tanned skin.

“Honestly, I’m kind of going to miss hanging out with you after this,” Neil admitted. “We should do it again sometime, like without all the planted photo ops for the team and stuff. Just us. Or something.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, this time in the equivalent of Nicky dropping his jaw and gasping loudly but with fewer dramatics. Was Neil implying what he thought he was? Or was Andrew just projecting his own thoughts on him?

“Unless you don’t want to,” Neil said. “If not, that’s completely fine. I just— I’m honestly not sure. But you’re different than other people for me, Andrew. There’s something different about the way I like you than the way I like other friends. And if I’m not misreading all this and you’re kinda into me too, I’d want to give it a try.”

Andrew’s head was spinning. He almost kicked himself, to prove this wasn’t just his cruel imagination. But on some level, he already knew the answer. So to spare the unnecessary pain, Andrew simply said, “Don’t be stupid.” Neil’s face fell for a fraction of a second before Andrew continued, “Yes or no?”

Neil’s voice was just above a whisper, almost inaudible in the moderately filled bakery, when he said, “It’s always a yes with you.”

Andrew’s throat tightened. “Don’t say stupid things,” he said, frowning even as he carefully took one of Neil’s hands into his own, holding it carefully.

Neil only smiled and interlocked their fingers, unable to hide a grin as he took a sip of tea.

#### +1 — Two Hearts Charity Gala

Andrew still hated galas more than anything. They were still completely useless and stupid when it didn’t include cats and just stuffy rich people he didn’t care about, but at least in this one they didn’t have to dress up. It was casual and everyone was encouraged to bring everyone they considered their family in order to fit the theme of family, which meant Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin were here. For once, Andrew didn’t mind it too much though, because he could now include Neil as well.

Neil had insisted on wearing one of his baggy cashmere sweaters, to let everyone know exactly how the usual Neil Josten dressed, which was like a potato sack, but Andrew couldn’t complain too much about it.

In the past few months after the end of their false friendship contract, where they hung out as real friends and then something a bit more, Neil’s terrible style had grown on Andrew. Not that he’d let it affect his own style competence, though.

Sitting at the table now, Neil shifted in his seat to face Andrew. “Yes or no?” he asked quietly, ignored by everyone else as one of the gala organizers gave his opening speech.

Andrew nodded and Neil’s hand found his, calloused and familiar and warm. Something as simple and juvenile as holding hands had never meant anything to Andrew before, it felt ridiculous in concept, but with Neil it felt as right as breathing. They were comfortable together, their fragments and shards fit together in ways Andrew never thought possible.

As the man on stage continued to drone on, Andrew muttered to Neil, “He has the mustache of a serial killer.”

Neil snorted. “You’d know that.”

Andrew only shrugged. “So would you,” he reminded Neil.

“The most common car to drive among serial killers is a Volkswagen Bug,” Neil said, ignoring the light jab.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’d want to commit a murder if I had to drive one of those too.”

Neil let out a small, sharp laugh at that, making Aaron turn his head and glare at them. When his eyes met Andrew’s, Andrew didn’t react and instead pulled his and Neil’s interlocked hands onto the table for his brother to see. It worked as Andrew expected and Aaron looked away, unable to be bothered.

“Smooth,” Neil whispered, squeezing Andrew’s hand lightly. “He’s just pissed that this stupid friendship ploy actually worked.”

“Who said I wasn’t either?” Andrew challenged.

“Don’t lie to a liar,” Neil said breezily. “We both know you like it just as much as I do.”

He brought Andrew’s hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the knuckles before turning to the stage as well, putting on a mask of intrigue that Andrew knew concealed Neil’s own skull numbing boredom. Andrew watched Neil watch the next speaker begin a spiel about the importance of finding the people who you really understand and can connect with, and silently admitted his defeat.

Neil was right. How could he not want this, now that he had it?

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to the fandom for unanimously kind of deciding andreil goes to denver post canon, it made this way easier for me as someone who lives in denver, as you might be able to tell since i really flexed on referencing specific locations (16th street mall is a giant downtown outdoor mall if you were confused in 5) and making fun of colorados sports teams mainly being named after landmarks (rapids, avalanches, rockies, etc). if that was just really annoying, sorry but i had fun there. anyway, hope you enjoyed this fic and my kind of sloppy edits and art (because all art is mine too), especially heather! happy valentines day and actually today kevin's birthday!


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